JACE
"What am I going to do?" I sigh as I lay in bed with my arm draped across my eyes and my other arm slung down across the side of the bed as I hold my phone.
I know I chose to work with Clattonia and the others. I know that I chose this. I know that this was my decision, no matter how fierce and beautiful Clattonia was as she dragged me into this, I chose to go along with it. I shake my head and feel a light dusting of heat run across the bridge of my nose and my cheeks as I think about how graceful, lethal, and eloquent she is. I've only known her for a short time, but I already admire her. There's just something about her that interests me, pulls me in like a magnet and makes me want to spill everything to her, devote myself to her, follow her every move. But that's absurd. Isn't it? I sigh once more as I think about what to do with my next mission.
Clattonia never told me about her mother and her situation herself, so it isn't like I can go and talk to her about it. I don't want to seem like I'm the type of person who pries into people's private lives. Besides, I don't think that she'd be too happy with me if she knew I saw her file. Either way, I'm sure that's not all there is to it. And I kind of want her to tell me everything herself, to be honest. I don't think Reece would let me get within stepping distance of her though.
"...You might be brave, but come talk to me when you stand up for yourself. Otherwise, I don't want you around."
I grimace as Reece's words run through my mind and I move my right arm away from my face as my phone buzzes. I move my left arm up to my face to view my phone and my eyebrows raise when I see that Clattonia texted me. I know she said she'd call, but...
'Answer your phone, nitwit'
"What?" I furrow my eyebrows as I say to myself and I realize that Clattonia called me five times within the past two hours.
I chuckle nervously as I dial her number and she answers within the first few rings.
"Nice of you to finally answer," Clattonia muses, "We're having a special group dinner over at the place. We'd like for you to come."
"Oh?" I breathe out as I look out my window and stare at the luminescent, full moon as beams of moonlight stream through my dark blue curtains.
"Yeah," She says after a pause, "And things happened."
"Things?" I ask, "What kind of--"
"Things that cannot be discussed over the phone," She interrupts me.
"Oh, I see," I say and pause for a few moments, "Hey, Clattonia..."
"Yes?"
"How do you choose between two decisions that you know will both have a bad outcome in some way?" I ask.
"Choose the one that seems right to you. Not everything in life is always going to be easy and almost nothing is ever straightforward, but do what feels right in your heart. One decision may hold more consequences than the other, but it could be the better decision in the end, or vise versa. But you won't know until you try. And if you choose to not do anything, then you'll be even worse off because nothing will happen and the decisions you could've made will just well up inside of your head and your heart," Clattonia says, "That's what I believe."
"You're pretty eloquent, you know," I say after a few moments.
"If I'm so eloquent, why can't I say the right thing when I want to the most?" Clattonia says quietly.
"I don't think it's about when you want to say the right thing but can't that counts, I think it's when you need to say the right thing and you do that counts more. And if you stumble, your good intentions should hopefully show through in both of those situations," I say.
"I knew I liked you for a reason," Clattonia says lightheartedly, "And anyways, whether you actually want to go to the dinner is one thing, but I actually need you to come with me somewhere first."
"Does this involve the thing that which can't be talked about over the phone?" I ask.
"Yes," Clattonia says and I can picture her nodding as she says so, "I need you to meet me and Reece. I'll text you the address."
"Alright," I nod, even though she can't see it, and I slide my legs over the side of the bed, my eyes drifting to my mission packet that's resting on my nightstand, "I'll be there."
"Good," She says, "I'll see you later."
And with that, she hangs up.
As I stand up from my bed I receive a text from Clattonia giving me the address of the meeting place.
'189 Torret Drive, Shibuya. Herbalist's Apothecary.'
"What does Clattonia need from an apothecary?" I mutter.
I make my way to the living room, careful not to make any noise, and grab a sticky-note from a pad of greenish-yellow colored stickey-notes from the marble countertop, ripping it off with the sliding swish sound it makes before the slight pop at the end. I grab a pen from the cup beside the pad of stickey-notes on the kitchen counter. I write my dad a note telling him that I went to research for my mission and I leave it on the counter with the pen before going to the front door and putting on a pair of my black boots. I glance back at my pistols that lay on the countertop and debate taking them with me, deciding that it's better to be safe than sorry before grabbing them and putting them in my jacket as I head out the door.
I fish the keys to my black motorcycle out of my pocket before I get on, starting the engine and revving it twice before driving off in the direction of Torret Drive. The wind whips against me as I quickly and gracefully turn around the quick bends between tightly placed houses and apartments in alleyways that come after a long stretch of straight road that leads to the the third traffic light on top of the hill on Main Street where you can see most of the city lights at the intersection, where I turned left, on top of the hill that overlooks the rest of the traffic down below. After turning around another tight corner, I make my way downhill to the part of Shibuya with mostly concrete buildings with siding and wooden porches and railings, an occasional few brick buildings here and there, and unkempt sidewalks, but it's somewhat charming, in a way.
I pull up next to the sidewalk at 189, reading the Herbalist's Apothecary sign to make sure it's the right building as I climb off of my motorcycle and put my keys back in my pocket before making my way up the wooden stairs and opening the little white door with screening in a square window at the top of it to the apothecary shop.
YOU ARE READING
White Rabbit
FantasyOn the day that Clattonia lost it all, she became a monster -- at least, that's what the public calls those who are viewed as a threat due to having supernatural powers. Now, never trusting and pushed over the edge, seventeen year old Clattonia Cess...